


big booty guzma

by r0wlets



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets
Summary: "You walk into his room and squeeze his oversized shirt feeling self-conscious for the first time in ages." Guzma/reader smut, 18+





	big booty guzma

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend for Christmas. Don't take this seriously. Also, I'm so sorry, Summer. You'll get a better present eventually.

                _big booty guzma and you_

                You walk into his room and squeeze his oversized shirt against your breast, feeling self-conscious for the first time in ages. You’ve had casual sex so many times before, but this is the first time you’ve been so nervous because you’ve never felt this way in your life. You’d like to think it’s because you’re in love, and maybe that’s part of the reason, but you think you’ve just never been this horny. You have received knowledge that he has a big, daddy cock, and if you were any wetter for that big, daddy cock, Noah would have to build another ark.

                He’s sitting in his throne, one leg crossed over the other, a slight bulge peeping out from beyond his shorts. His chapped lips turn upwards into a smirk as you walk closer. You run a hand over your buzzed hair while he grips the sides of his throne. “Ya stole ya boy’s laundry for this occasion?” he taunts.

                You roll his eyes. There’s never a dull moment in this pagan household. You succumb to your urge to roll your eyes. “Ya boy left it behind the last time we were tryin’ to get into some shenanigans,” you say back. “Ya chickened out after eatin’ the kung pao. Like what I’m wearin’ underneath?”

                “Ye. Nice ass.”

                You turn around and shake that ass like you’re in the wrong neighborhood. He stands up and whistles, a piercing fweet between the fingers you want up that sweet anal cavity. “C’mere, girl, let me knead those buns of yours before they go into the oven.”

                He wiggles his fingers, but you take a step back, playfully raising an eyebrow. Like you’re gonna be that easy. “You gotta say please first.”

                Guzma matches your raised eyebrow. “Please? The big, bad Guzma never says please. Ya think I’m a nice guy or somethin’?”

                “Please, daddy, beg to grind me ass like tomorrow’s buns.”

                You press your hands against the wall and shake your ass again once more. Soon you feel rough hands gently go under your shirt and gently rub your stomach, and the smells of malasadas and fried pickles waft almost a foot over your head as Guzma presses his face against your head. “Please, Mommy,” he breathes, “let me grind your ass into the finest malasada Alola has ever seen.”

                He squeezes upwards, brushing his hands against your underboobs, and drags both of you across the floor. Gently pushing you into his throne, one hand goes over his shorts and the other pushes against the throne for a few seconds before he suddenly stands upright, looking like a train just just smashed his corpse into a stop sign. “Hold on, m’lady, I gotta keep the mood goin’ first.”

                You swing your legs back and forth while he walks over to the boombox and shoves a cassette inside of it. When he presses the play button, “Africa” by Toto starts playing, and your face lights up into biggest smile as he returns, a toothy grin on his own face. “Bless the rains down in this dick,” he says.

                “Oh, yes, daddy.”

                Grabbing what hair you have from behind, he leans over you and goes for the kill, licking your bottom lip with his thick, moist tongue. You arch your back and moan into his mouth when he puts that thick moistness in there, and your tongues mesh together like two boa constrictors trying to swallow the other whole. His hand loosens his grip and moves down to my neck, where he squeezes the back once before it goes further. While he fools around with my back, I run my hands down his chest and pinch both of his nipnops, pinch-ponching them like the most exquisite of grapes. When he pulls away, he presses his forehead against mine and says breathlessly, “Damn, girl, you squeezin’ my lemons.”

                He takes his shirt off first. Beneath his white tank-top, there is sweat and hard nipnops. The bulge beyond his shorts become more enraged, and hair is everywhere. He’s a hairy boy, black hair sticking out everywhere from his tanned, thick body. When he takes off that hot, sweaty tank-top, there’s a line of dark hair going from his chest to his private parts. He’s not a bodybuilder or anything, but he is thick enough to break my arm in an arm-wrestling contest.

`               And he is thick enough to make me hesitant when he begins pulling off my shirt. I ball my hands into fists while he’s slobbering all over my neck until he pulls off my shirt and tosses it aside, revealing two perky, albeit asymmetrical, boobie-bobbles. I’m looking down at his hairy legs as he cups my chin, asking in a concerned voice, “What’s the prob, mommy? Did I chomp on ya too hard?”

                I shake my head. “Nah, daddy. It’s just…my boobies are two different sizes.”

                Guzma shrugs. “Well, that’s just two different bottles I can drink from. They don’t lactate, do they?”

                “Uh, no.”

                “Good, ‘cause that’s some weird shit.”

                “I’m a weird bitch. And I’m also fat.”

                “A little chub don’t hurt nobody, ‘cause I like ‘em big, boobie, and beautiful.”

                He nips me on the nose. I jump back against the chair, narrowing my eyes at him. “Guzma! What kinda fucking foreplay is that?!”

                “Ya boy’s fucking foreplay, mommy.”

                I can’t help but smile as he feels my thighs, and soon I’m in a giddy, boisterous laugh as I’m lying over his Wimpod-infested shag rug, watching him strip down to the greatest story ever told TM. His diddly-darn-dimmadamned cock wiggles back and forth like a noble python as he places a hand on either side of my shoulder and begins laughing, kissing me on every cubic millimeter of my body. I moan softly at first, but I raise my voice higher and higher as his kisses travel lower and lower down on my body. By the time “Africa’s” drum solo plays for the second time, I’m screaming in-sync as his tongue swirls around my garden of pubes. I see his beautiful ass sticking up in the air as he is about to put his face in my nonovulating monster hole. “It’s time for ya boy to suck up some oystas.”

                I know from my sources that he doesn’t do oral often, but he acts like a professional oyster-sucker as he soaks up my pussy juices with his good succ. I hold onto the rug for dear life because my clit is one happy camper, like she just found the right town to move into in Animal Crossing. But I can’t do the final milking yet. My pussy is moist and ready for open applications as he finally places that hard, golden cock-a-doodle-diddly-darn-dimma-dong inside of me.

                It’s like magic. It’s like a million pokedollars. It’s like I found two shiny starters within one soft-reset. I’m screaming along to the music. At first I don’t think all 69 inches – wait, 6.9 inches – are gonna fit inside of me at first, but this cave knows how to attract the finest of grizzly bears. It’s a perfect fit, and his horny honker nudges my clippity-clopper back and forth, in and out, until I’m bellowing from the top of my lungs, “I BLESS THESE BEES DOWN IN AAAAAFRICA-ECH”.

                I cough up the mix of Fireball and potion I’d been drinking earlier. It’s almost time. I feel like I’m gonna shoot out Rosemary’s motherfucking baby as I grip tufts of his black-and-white hair and lurch forward. “I’M GONNA PRE, DADDY, HYAAAAAAH-“

                And out comes the clearest, alien-born Vaseline-flavored drizzle you will ever see. He cums two seconds later, letting out ragged, deep breaths and alien spray all over my belly. I think he stops, but then he cums again, spraying my boobily-bops with a heart-shaped load of weasel whites. It’s so gross, and I’ll need a shower as soon as we’re off this rag of Beartic fur, but I’ve never been hotter for a man in my entire life. I only realize that this actually happened when he blurts out, “Ah, shit, ya boy not practicin’ safe sex in here. I didn’t have a cock on.”

                “Don’t worry, daddy, that condom wouldn’t’ve handled your thick, creamy juice, either.”

                “That’s what I like to hear.” He stands over me, looking so disoriented and hot and sweaty in notihng but his lopsided glasses, and he gently kisses me on the forehead. “Now you just wait right there in my super-soak while ya boy gets his car keys. We goin’ to Dennys,”

                “Oh, yes, daddy. But I need a shower first.”

                “Take all the time you need, mommy.”

                And while he walks out of the room, bare and beautiful-assed, I feel a Wimpod scurry under my hand and I sigh, dreamily looking up at the ceiling. Only the best boy would treat you to the two best Grand Slams humanity has ever witnessed.


End file.
